Heavy Is The Crown
by KissKissBiteBite
Summary: Thranduil always seemed to be going about things the most difficult way possible. She was no different. OFC/Thranduil Start Pre-Hobbit and should go through the events of The Hobbit.
1. Chapter 1

Thranduil watched the woman press her cheek to the stone coffin. King Gil-galad's funeral was a somber event for everyone – but no one had seen such grief before in such a young elf.

"That is the King's daughter," Elrond whispered to Glorfindel, just within hearing range of Thranduil.

Gil-galad had never given his daughter a proper introduction at court because of the war raging against the forces of Mordor and many had wondered if the princess had sailed West with her mother decades ago. They were proven wrong now as she let her tears pool against her father's coffin.

She was beautiful. She had her mother's golden Vanyarin hair but it was her father's dark eyes that were presently still pooling with tears.

Cirdan stepped forward and gently pulled the young elf away from the coffin without a word. She crumpled into his chest and the Teleri prince wrapped her in his arms and pressed his cheek to the top of her head as he whispered something to her.

"What's her name?" Thranduil asked Elrond after the ceremony. He looked over to see Celebrian wrap her in a gentle hug and a small smile pushed up the young elf's lips, making her all the more radiant compared to some of the other elves in attendance.

"That is Princess Sílathinn."

Almost as if she had heard her name, she looked over at Thranduil and Elrond. Her tears had dried and she was now trying to smile at everyone who offered their condolences.

Thranduil understood. He had buried his father a few days ago as well. Their fathers were the weakest of allies to each other. Oropher and his army had charged into battle without waiting for Gil-galad's approval and were slaughtered. It was for that reason Thranduil was surprised to even be invited to the kingly event. Looking at the young elf, Thranduil suspected it had something to do with her. She seemed like the only one – besides Elrond – who wasn't glaring at him, a Sindarin Elf among the Noldor.

Elrond looked between Sílathinn and Thranduil. "Perhaps you should say something to her."  
"There are no words I could give her to ease her suffering."

"You do not need to ease her suffering," Elrond said, "just acknowledge it."

The newest Elven King tried to disguise the frown that Elrond's words produced before stepping up towards the princess. He bowed and she returned it, curtseying deeper than he thought she should. "Princess Sílathinn-"

"It's just Lady Sílathinn, now. I am a princess no longer."

Thranduil's ever present frown deepened. "Your father's throne-"

"I have bequeathed it to Lord Cirdan. He will be a fair and wise ruler. He was my father's trusted advisor and friend. I was never raised to take my father's crown and responsibilities. That's why you were invited here on my order, to create as much peace as possible among the Eldar. I can trust my people to no one better than Cirdan, Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, and you."

Thraduil kept an apathetic face as she curtseyed before him again and turned ever so slightly to greet the next elf who came up to her. He would not be dismissed – he was a King now! – and said, "I do hope we will meet again, Lady Sílathinn."

She turned to him, "I will see to it that we do, King Thranduil." Her long blonde hair fluttered in the wind and her dark eyes snapped back to the elf in front of her.

* * *

Just over a century had passed since that brief meeting had occurred between Thranduil and Sílathinn. She did not walk into his thoughts often, but he did remember her curt words and striking presence – and that small smile that she had given to Celebrian.

But, he wondered if she would be at the bonding ceremony of Elrond and Celebrian. He twirled the invitation in his long fingers as he continued to push his horse towards Imladris. Considering who was getting married, the union was announced to all of the Elven kingdoms.

Thranduil dismounted his steed and walked up the steps to Elrond's throne room. The dark-haired lord bowed to Thranduil who returned the gesture.

"Welcome, mellon," Elrond said as he rose from his throne and embraced Thranduil.

Lady Celebrian stood from her throne as well, acknowledging Thranduil's presence. "I do hope your journey was enjoyable."

"Indeed it was. My men have the gift for you both." He extended a hand to the man waiting outside the throne room. A silk-covered package sat in his arms.

Celebrian smiled, and it only served to remind Thranduil of the smile she had brought forth from Sílathinn all those decades prior. "Thank you for your kind gift. The celebrations begin to-morrow." She bowed slightly before walking away to escort the gift-bearer to the room with the rest of the gifts.

Elrond clasped Thranduil on the arm. "Come, let me show you to your chambers."

The blond followed the Lord of Imladris across the meandering floors and paths of the palace until he stopped at a large door and the elf standing near it held it open to reveal a large, spacious room, worthy of a visiting King – of course, Thranduil would expect no less.

The door nearest his opened and a tall blonde elf stepped out, he would not have noticed her if the sunlight had not caught the silver necklace she had on. She was nearly as tall as Elrond, and her blond hair was left to hang around her elbows in loose waves. A light green dress with flowing bell sleeves clung to her figure.

"Sílathinn," Thranduil said.

She turned to him and paused before bowing to Elrond and Thranduil. "My Lords, I hope I did not disturb."

Elrond smiled and bowed his head slightly to the young elf. "You are always welcome, Sílathinn." The dark-haired elf turned to Thranduil. "Do you remember King Thranduil?"

Thranduil held his chin a little higher at the sound of his title, still getting used to it. She curtseyed again, her dark eyes meeting his and betraying no sense of the curtness she had given him all those decades ago. No, there was only a gleam of joy. It suited her much better, he thought. "Yes, he was kind enough to offer me his condolences on my father's passing."

Thranduil tilted his head downward in appreciation of her words. "What have you been doing since that time?" He asked.

Elrond answered, "Sílathinn had been taken under the tutelage of my betrothed while in Lorien. She is now acting as a messenger between Imladris, Lindon, and Lorien."

"The only daughter of King Gil-galad acting as a messenger?" Thranduil tried very hard to keep his distaste hidden but, of course, failed.

Sílathinn stepped forward and smiled at Thranduil, it was that same small smile she had given to Celebrian at her father's funeral and he felt a tightness take over his chest. "It is my honor to serve as messenger between these great lands. If I can prevent even one single death, I find my task respectable. It is something my father would have been proud of. I do hope you do not look down on me because of my profession."

Thranduil bristled at the sound of this. "Of course not, my lady. I would never."

She smiled and the tips of her ears pinked again. "Thank you, my lord. And, now, if you'll excuse me, I have to tend to the bride." She tucked her head and slunk by Thranduil, who turned to follow her movement until she disappeared around a corner. The blonde elf turned back to Elrond to find him smiling.

"What?"

"Sílathinn is a lady worthy of many things; your attention is one of them."

Thranduil knew exactly what Elrond was talking about and tried to repress his retort. "Age and affection have softened you, Elrond."

Elrond almost smiled again at Thranduil's response. "Sílathinn is beautiful, gracious, and kind – a true princess. Do not expect her to wait for you."

"She is Gil-galad's daughter."

Elrond's lips perked the slightest bit again. "I do hope you remember that she said that her people are now under the guardianship of those she finds worthy – including you." And with that Elrond bowed and walked away from the Elvenking, leaving him with his thoughts.

* * *

A gold circlet sparkled above her brow as she danced with the new bride. She laughed and smiled beside Celebrian as they twirled and bowed in the dance. The dark blue fabric of her skirts swirled about her, giving her the regal appearance he thought she deserved – she was wearing her father's colors. It was then that Thranduil fully realized she was strikingly beautiful, surpassing the memory he had of her. He noticed her high cheek bones and the subtle curve of her bottom lip. He watched her pointed chin jut out a bit when she turned and bowed with the tune. He liked watching her dress strain the smallest bit against her curves when she moved.

The song ended and she and Celebrian curtsied to each other with a giggle and applauded the musicians before heading their separate ways. She bowed to Elrond as she passed him on the way to her table, a large smile still evident on her face. She conversed quietly with those around her, including Lindir, who tugged at the end of one of her plaits with a laugh, causing her to swat at his hand. Lindir then poked her side, making her jump and giggle. Sílathinn was occasionally swept away by Galadriel or Celeborn who would dance with her or converse quietly in a corner of the large hall. Thranduil surmised that Galadriel and her husband had become surrogate parents for the lost princess. The Noldor royalty surrounded her at all angles. He wasn't quite sure what to do about that, his father's advisors still hovered around him while he was at home, droning about the lack of trustworthiness of the Noldor. One of the more brash advisors even thought it would be wise to not attend the ceremony.

He watched as Glorfindel approached her when she had returned to her table. He bowed easily to her and swept her back up into a graceful dance. She smiled at him, laughing lightly at something he had whispered in her ear.

They could be a handsome couple – and Glorfindel would be a suitable match for the last of the High Kings' daughter.

Celebrian leaned over to Thranduil. "You've crushed your chalice."

Thranduil looked to see the red liquid spilling over onto his pale fingers. He dropped the remnants of the cup to his table, ignoring the clattering noise it made, and motioned for another. It was immediately brought back over, along with a damp cloth to clean his hands. No one had stopped to stare at him – they knew better than to stare at the Elvenking.

He was angry – but what or who he was angry at was still undecided. Perhaps it was because she had smiled up at the celebrated warrior when he had only been given cold words and colder looks when first meeting her. Or, it was because he was so tired of having the elves of Imladris surround him at all times. Or maybe, just maybe, he was so irritated at the taste of this wine that he was being more aggressive to everyone in general.

He looked up just as Glorfindel bowed and kissed Sílathinn's small hand with a smile before leading her back to the table. She smiled at the celebrated warrior as he left to talk with the bride and groom. Sílathinn looked around the grand hall, finally settling on the King. Her ears pinked before she bowed her head in recognition. The blonde King then rose and walked over to her. Perhaps it was because he wished to see if he could conjure up that pink taint from her again, or maybe he just wanted to get away from the incessant chatter of those around him at the table – either way, he walked over to her and extended a hand.

His wish was granted; her cheeks and ears pinked quite quickly and vibrantly but, she accepted his hand and let him guide her to the floor. Thranduil looked down at her as she pushed a strand of her golden hair over her shoulder, ready for the dance to begin. She looked relaxed, at ease, beside him – but perhaps that was because of the four glasses of wine she had consumed.

They stepped, bowed, and twirled in unison and ease. She was small against him despite her stature and her dainty hands seemed even smaller when clasped in his. She kept her gaze away from his face, but just once they locked eyes. It was then that he noticed the small flecks of gray in her eyes, giving them warmth that lacked from most Elven orbs. They stepped up to each other, hands clasped, as the song escalated. He could hear her breaths come out in measured tufts when she stepped up to his side again with the dance, one of her hands on his hip, mirroring his grip on her. The need to anchor her to his side suddenly lodged itself in his chest as she twirled around him when he clapped. She was smiling again as she stepped to the music, seemingly unaware of the effect she was having on him.

He didn't notice how some of the other attendees whispered behind their hands. Why were they dancing together? Others simply smiled, remembering the old unities. Others smiled for other reasons which remain to be seen.

The musicians drew out the last note of their song and Sílathinn and Thranduil stepped away from each other.

"Thank you for the dance, my king." She curtsied.

Thranduil bowed in response and caught her hand before she could step away, pressing a quick kiss to the back of her hand. "Thank you, princess."

She froze for a moment at the sound of her old title, but then smiled, bowed her head again, and walked away, leaving the Elvenking by himself. Elrond quickly intercepted her and whispered something in her ear before leading her away.

Lady Celebrian then stepped up to Thranduil and curtsied. "Would you care for a dance, Thranduil?"

Thranduil couldn't say no – refusing the lady of Imladris and the bride of the celebrations would be frowned upon by all forms of life. He gently led her in a slow dance and tried to ignore the enigmatic smile she had inherited from her mother.

"Sílathinn would not be opposed to also delivering messages to your kingdom – you need only ask."

"I will not have a princess waiting on me as if she were a common messenger."

"She is trying to prove her worth away from her father's name, Thranduil. Of course, you can relate to that."

Thranduil attempted to look away from Celebrian's face. "Hn."

"She is a great asset. And I know you have always had a strange sort of effect on her – just as she has had on you."

Thranduil almost missed the next step in the dance as he glared down at Celebrian, who simply kept smiling. "Do not try to play matchmaker, it doesn't suit a lady of your stature."

"I do no such thing, I am speaking the truth. You should have heard her shy murmurings when she first arrived here." Celebrian's smile widened as she bowed in time with the music before stepping back up to Thranduil, who had mirrored her actions in the dance. "You are doing her a disservice if you only think of her as her father's daughter. Your kingdom needs a queen just as much as you do, Thranduil. Do not hide your feelings because of your pride and your father's memory. The animosity between the Noldor and Sindar may end with you if you so wish it."

The song ended and Celebrian stepped back, curtsied, and left the Elvenking in the middle of the floor, as close to stunned as he could get.

Sílathinn reemerged with Elrond. The musicians quickly started a new song – a familiar tune that announced the newly bound couple was going to retire for the night. Everyone rose to their feet and clapped with the rhythm of the song for the couple's last dance. This, of course, blocked Thranduil's view of Sílathinn – not that he was staring at all. He clapped half heartedly as he attempted to crane his neck to get her back into his view. He finally caught her gazing up at the stars on the balcony, gauzy drapes barely concealing her from his gaze after the song had ended. He stood next to her, taking note of how she nervously tugged at the sleeves of her gown. She looked up at him before she quickly bowed her head.

"It was a beautiful night for a joining of two souls." She glanced back over her shoulder to see the newly married couple retreating from the grand hall as other couples fluttered about them.

"Yes, I agree. Celebrian and Elrond deserve the best."

Sílathinn smiled but said nothing, looking out over the trees that bent gently with the breeze. "I leave in the morning for Lindon."

"So soon?" He asked, not knowing why.

"Yes, Lord Cirdan requires my presence. There has been trouble and Lord Elrond has asked me to deliver a response to Lord Cirdan's request."

"Could they not find another messenger?"

"I am trusted with the most important of messages between these realms. It wouldn't be deemed safe to send anyone else." She attempted to smile.

"There is talk that some of the old dark forces continue to infest the forests," the King's voiced tightened at the thought of his beloved Greenwood falling prey to darkness. "I would not see you harmed."

She was sure he could feel the heat off of her cheeks now. "Thank you, but I assure you, I will be able to protect myself from anything that may appear in these realms – and yours, if I were able to deliver messages to you. What is life without a few orcs, hm?" The heat intensified off her cheeks and she paused. "I am sorry if my words all those years ago offered you insult. I was too curt and brash with my words. I apologize." Her long eyelashes hid her eyes from him as she gripped the banister in front of her.

Thranduil felt the tightness encase him which he could not shake. "You do not need to apologize. I understand your feelings at the time." He paused and watched as she tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear. "I was afforded a private burial with my father. You had to suffer through a parade."

Sílathinn turned to him and Thranduil felt the tightness further encase him, slowly crushing his ribs. "Thank you." She pursed her lips for a moment before continuing, "I am sorry about your father. He was a strong and faithful king. A true loss for all of us," her voice was soft and she looked up at him. "I'm so sorry,"

A pregnant pause stretched between them.

Sílathinn broke it, pulling at her sleeves again. "I hope to see you again soon, my King. I bid you goodnight." She turned quickly to leave.

He stopped her by lightly grabbing her wrist, encasing the thin limb easily with his large hands. He took her hand and raised it to his mouth, gently pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Goodnight, Princess."

She hurriedly curtsied again and walked away, disappearing into the still bustling crowd in the hall.

* * *

Elrond bowed lightly to Sílathinn as she mounted her tawny-colored horse as the dawn's first rays started to peak over the hills.

"Stay safe, Sílathinn."

She smiled. "Thank you, my lord."

Elrond turned slightly after she said this and stepped back. "There is someone else who would bid you safe travels."

Thranduil stepped forward and she bowed her head in recognition. "Stay safe," he said.

"Thank you."

It was then that he took in her appearance, noting at how different she looked from her regal attire the previous night. Her armor was light and the color of the trees and ground – her father's heraldic insignia was embossed over her heart. Her long hair was plaited and tied up around her head. A few strands were left to spill down her back. Two small swords were strapped to her thighs and a bow and quiver were around her back.

"I will call on you when I am in need of your services. Please accept this small token as my way of apologizing for doubting your abilities." He handed her a small parcel.

Her face split in a large smile, making Thranduil suck in his lips to keep from saying something foolish. She hurriedly tucked the parcel away in her pack. "Thank you, my King."

She spurred on her horse and disappeared under the canopy of the trees.

Elrond turned to Thranduil with yet another small smile. He bowed his head without saying anything and walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

Sílathinn dismounted as she finally crossed into the familiar lands of Lindon. Cirdan appeared just as another elf started to steer Sílathinn's horse to his usual stable. Sílathinn bowed her head in respect before she approached the Ring Bearer. She tried to push away the stares she felt boring into the back of her head as she stood near Cirdan. This place still gave her chills, even after all the decades she had escaped its gates.

She handed over Elrond's written response, "Lord Elrond sends his regards,"

Cirdan smiled and held the scroll in his hands. "You have a visitor," He waved a hand behind him to reveal Galadriel and Celeborn.

Sílathinn, no stranger to the magical capacity of the couple, was still surprised. She quickly bowed. "My lord, my lady, I hope your travels treated you well." They should have been, considering they beat her to the Grey Havens and she had a fortnight head start.

The familiar enigmatic smile spread across Galadriel's face as she gently touched Sílathinn's hands. "We have decided to send you to Greenwood. We need to have a council with King Thranduil."

"My Lady? I do not understand. Could not anyone have gone for that? It is only a call to council – not news of the orc raids in the realms of men, or of-"

"Trust me, this message is just as important as all the others. For Lórien and for you." Galadriel patted her hand once and motioned for her to retire to her usual chambers.

The younger elf did as she was told and retired to her chambers, undoing the numerous braids around her head and setting her weapons on the nearest table to be cleaned. She didn't pretend to know what Galadriel had meant – all the years she spent under her watchful eye did nothing but instill the knowledge that one will never truly know her.

As usual, Cirdan had made sure to have a warm bath drawn and waiting for Sílathinn in her room. She stripped and slipped into the warm and fragrant water, enjoying how the flower petals stuck to her skin. She leaned over the rim of the bath, ignoring how the water sloshed over the side, and reached for her pack. She pulled out the small parcel Thranduil had given to her and undid the wrapping carefully. Wrapped in the expensive coverings was a silver and ruby circlet. Little leaf detailing was embedded in the delicate silver and several of the leaves were brushed with a red dust, giving them the appearance of leaves in the fall.

Her wet fingers continuously swept over the intricate details as her smile grew larger and larger. "I love it."

* * *

Celeborn handed her the small scroll as she steadied her horse.

"Be safe, little one." He then whispered to her horse and she was gone in a flash.

Galadriel appeared beside her husband. "She will not be back for some time. We should send Haldir in her place until she returns."

"Of course."

"We should start contemplating a trip to the northern realm."

"Do you believe so?"

Galadriel smiled. "I do."

* * *

Sílathinn sucked on a piece of lembas as she spurred her horse onward. The warm light of Lindon had faded long ago and the cold light had now seeped through the trees. A dank, musty smell surrounded her. Her horse did not falter. She had almost reached Greenwood after many a fortnight travelling.

"Faster, mellon, faster," she whispered to her steed. Something was not right – she had guessed the murmurings were true.

Time passed and she had not been faced with anymore than a low-lying branch. She was nearing Greenwood now and she was thankful to get off the roads soon.

She took another bite of lembas and shook her reigns once, letting her steed know it was okay to slow down.

"Nearly there, mellon, nearly there," she sighed as she looked at the light glow just out of reach.

But the trees shifted and cracked suddenly, making her horse buck and whine. "Sh, sh, mellon."

The noise grew louder and Sílathinn drew an arrow and readied her bow as she pushed her horse farther along. A great screech came from behind her and two orcs fell behind her and her horse. Sílathinn loosed her arrow as she turned, keeping the orc from loosing its' own arrow but was soon pulled off her horse when another orc roughly grabbed her shoulder and attempted to pin her to the ground. She grabbed one of her small swords and thrust it upwards under the orc's jaw before using the other one to slip into its misshaped gut and soon the monster stopped moving. Sílathinn quickly threw one of the blades at the other orc who was trying to escape back into the forest. The blade was embedded into the back of his neck and he fell to the forest floor without another sound.

Her horse had fled, leaving her alone in the forest. She started to run towards the glow at the end of the path but, the noise started to roar again. She had barely made it a few more steps before three more orcs came at her, emerging from the forest's depths. She threw her last small sword at one, sticking the blade into his eye. At one of the others she loosed two arrows at once, hitting it in the neck and chest. She grabbed another arrow and steadied her bow but the third orc had disappeared. She ran again, hoping the injuries she had inflicted upon the orcs would be enough to let her get away without another disturbance. Her heart was trying to beat its way out of her ribcage, thumping loudly in her ears as the taste and scent of dirt and blood started to cloud her senses.

She was granted a few more steps before the orc that had seemingly disappeared tackled her to the forest floor and dragged her off the path. Sílathinn managed to grab her arrow and shove it into the side of the orc's neck just as the orc pushed his own twisted and rusted blade into the elf's side. Her limbs suddenly tightened and slowed and she could not find the strength to pull her sword from the orc. Her arms and legs betrayed her and fell limp at her sides, refusing to move. She could not scream, could not move. She was paralyzed. A grey mist clouded her vision and the last thing she heard was a dozen arrows being loosed.

* * *

Thranduil looked at Sílathinn as she was lifted into the healer's chambers. Her grey and brown eyes were clouded with the poison and vacant of the warmth he knew belonged in there.

"My King, you must leave now," the healer said to Thranduil as his assistants started to peel the armor away from her body. They had discovered a strange substance on the orc's blade when they had pulled it from Sílathinn's side. It hadn't been used since the War but it was apparently still around in small doses. It was an extract of the Spiders' venom, offspring of Ungoliant.

"You will alert me immediately when you are finished. I do not care what time it is."

The healer bowed as Thranduil exited his chambers.

The Elvenking then paced in his chambers, the note Sílathinn had been carrying lay forgotten on his bed. He could only think of her vacant stare. He could only see the blood splattered against her cheek – she had looked dead when he had pulled her from the leaves underneath the carcass of the orc. She had been half covered in the damned monster's blood when they had finally felled the beast.

He remembered how his archers had called to him when he leapt from the trees after he had caught sight of her golden hair splayed out across the leaves. He had paid no attention to the other orcs that had been laying an attack and that attempted to assail behind him – he knew his archers would take care of it. The king bent and pulled her out, gathering her in his arms and walked back to his fortress. Her horse had sped towards his castle and alerted him to her predicament.

But now he was helpless. He wasn't a healer like Elrond; he could not pull the venom from her with the help of the Valar. He could only wait.

The moments trickled by and he finally read the scroll from the Lord and Lady of Lórien.

_We must meet. After Sílathinn has recovered, of course._

Thranduil crumpled the note. They knew she was being placed in danger when they sent her to him. He should be angry with them – but she was safe now. And with him.

A knock came at his door.

He opened it quickly. "What news?"

"The healer had done all he can. Lady Sílathinn is still unconscious but is expected to be fully recovered soon." The elf at the door kept his head bowed as he walked away from his king.

Thranduil made his way to the healing wing. He pushed open the doors quickly, causing them to slam against the walls. The healer rose from his seat beside the bed and bowed.  
"

My king, she sleeps now. We will need to take precautions when she wakes. She will be very fragile."

Thranduil sat at the edge of the bed – noting that it was not as comfortable as he would have hoped. "We need to move her."

"To where?"

"The chamber nearest mine. I would not have her wake and find herself in the healing wing, away from any comfort. And she is not of this realm. She will not be used to waking up underground."

"Of course," the healer nodded and motioned for the others standing at the window.

Thranduil brushed a strand of hair away from her face before he noticed how her shoulders were bare. "Which one of you cleaned her?" he asked as he attempted to keep his voice level.

"I did," a small, female voice said from the other side of the bed. "I know you are protective of Lady Sílathinn's propriety."

Thranduil nodded, pretending not to notice the glances the group of healers exchanged between each other. Had he really given away his feelings for the girl that easily and readily when he had carried her in just a few hours before? He briefly recalled shouting for the healers, pleading with them to "save her! Save her now!" before she was taken from his grasp.

Thranduil stood and nodded to the head healer. "I will check on her in the morning." He then walked out of the room and back to his own, finding one of his archers there, holding Sílathinn's pack and weapons.

"I was told you would like to have these until Lady Sílathinn wakes."

Thranduil nodded and let the young elfling into his chambers to set the assorted accessories on a table before he bowed and left, closing the large door behind him. The king knew it would be impolite to rifle through a lady's belongings without her consent, but he did it anyway. Inside her pack he saw the half-eaten lembas, a jug of water, her clothes and other assorted small trinkets but, tucked away and very carefully wrapped was a small parcel placed between a shirt that had her father's insignia sewn into it and a kerchief with her mother's initials.

He took it out and unwrapped it to reveal the circlet he had gifted her just a few weeks prior. Her delicate fingerprints were pressed all over it as if she were constantly touching it, memorizing how it felt. This little fact caused him to smile. It was a twitching motion as if his facial muscles weren't use to operating that way but, eventually his white teeth were revealed to his vacant room.


	3. Chapter 3

Sílathinn could smell the leaves and chill before she opened her eyes. The blankets and pillows were soft around her, she almost felt like she didn't need to open her eyes.

The pain in her side that ebbed and flowed between dull and stabbing told her otherwise. She opened her eyes to see a large stone ceiling above a delicately woven metal canopy. There were no windows around her and her stomach dropped, unnerved. Where was she?

She slowly sat up in the bed, repressing a grimace as her entire torso groaned in protest. "Hello?" She called out, voice raspy. She cleared her throat and swallowed a bit of saliva before trying again. "Hello?"

The door in front of her opened and a thin elf stepped in, head bowed. "My lady, you're awake. I have to tell the King." He then attempted to scurry away.

"Wait!" Sílathinn said, holding a hand out to stop in which resulted in a ripping sensation to shoot up her side. She suppressed the whimper that followed. "Where am I?"

The elf almost smiled. "You're in the Kingdom of Greenwood, my lady. The realm of King Thranduil." He then left, silently closing the door behind him.

She sat on the bed for a moment, trying to figure out everything when the door opened again and a group of elves came in, carrying medicinal supplies. "Glad to see you're awake, my lady," the oldest one of the bunch chirped while unfurling gauze on her bed. "You gave us all quite a scare for a little bit."

Sílathinn smiled. "Are you the healers that helped me?"

The youngest smiled. "It was our pleasure. We did everything we could. You should have seen King Thranduil though-"

The speech was cut off as the Elf suddenly hissed in pain and limped away for a moment. "You'll need to excuse her," the older elf said, as he unwrapped his supplies as well, "she gets very emotionally invested." He got to work, applying new ointments to her wound after undressing it and then reapplying the gauze. His lips pushed out in a slight pout as he fastened the gauze around her. "It seems you are not healing as quickly as I had previously hoped."

"What does that mean?" Sílathinn asked, resisting the urge to pick at the bandaging to look at the wound that was currently driving a heated pain up the side of her torso.

"I'm afraid you will have to stay here a little longer than I originally expected, I do apologize, my lady." The older elf smiled and started to pack up his supplies, aided by the other. "There is nothing else I can do for you now."

"Please," she started, "I cannot stay here. I cannot intrude on King Thranduil's kindness for too long."

The younger elf who had limped away some time previously suddenly walked back into the chambers. "King Thranduil will not see your stay here as an intrusion. I promise you that, my lady." She bowed and scurried away, avoiding the angry look the others were sending her.

"We will attend to you soon," the older healer said as he packed away his materials. "Please, do not move. It might agitate your bindings." The group bowed before exiting, leaving Sílathinn alone again.

She reclined against her pillows and stifled a sigh. She didn't want to seem ungrateful. It was kind of the King to allow her to stay but she was against intruding. She knew the King was private and guarded. The fact that she was now imposing on his sanctuary left her feeling uncomfortable and guilty. She placed a hand over her side, wincing at the new wave of pain that shot through her, she stood from the bed and placed her feet on the cool floor.

The room was empty except for the large bed and scenes from the Awakening carved into the stone.

Sílathinn took small, silent steps toward the door. The metal of the handle was warm and a strange comfort for her. She pried the door open and stepped into the hall. The ceilings were vaulted and carved intricately. She had heard stories about the carved stone of Greenwood but they could not compare to the delicate but almost harsh beauty of the palace. Sílathinn continued to creep through the halls, creating more and more distance between her and her chambers, seeing no one and being seen by no one.

That is, until a large hand wrapped around her arm and gently tugged.

"Princess," Thranduil said. "I did not realize you were well enough to leave your chambers."

"Truthfully, I do not think I am well enough." She wanted to smile but felt ever fiber of her being growing heavier by the moment. "I do not want to encroach on your kindness, my lord. I do promise I will be gone as soon as my health allows it."

Thranduil paused and mused (as quickly as he could) over what he could say without continuing to alienate her.

"Please, princess, do not feel that you are encroaching. It is an honor to have you here, regardless of the circumstances."

Sílathinn tried to smile again but had to stop when she needed to lean against the nearest pillar in order to stay upright. Her next breath was caught in her throat when Thranduil gently grasped her shoulders.

He made sure to touch only the cloth of her dress. She wanted to know what it would feel like to feel his skin against hers but quickly pushed that thought from her mind, know it would be deemed vulgar.

"Princess?"

"I am so sorry, my lord. I am afraid feeling unwell." She felt the warmth spread over her cheeks. She disliked feeling helpless.

"Let me get you back to your chambers."

She had to bit her lip to hold back the yelp of pain that came with Thranduil lifting her up into his arms. "Please, my lord, this really isn't suitable for someone of your status. I could have walked back without assistance."

"I would not forgive myself if something happened to you, Princess. Please, do not refuse my help." He did not want to cause her any discomfort. He just wanted to aid and assist.

Sílathinn sighed and closed her eyes. "You are too kind."

She wanted to say something. She wanted to tell him she had thought about how he held her at the wedding almost every time she closed her eyes and how she saw the stars in his gaze. But the words formed a block in her throat. Perhaps it wouldn't be prudent to say anything now. She wouldn't know how to describe it. She wasn't sure if this was the feeling her mother had warned her about only briefly before disappearing in the West.

The pain in her side continued to grow and she passed out, only hearing his heartbeat.

Thranduil pushed into her chambers and gently set her on the bed and called for the healers. He was worried but couldn't shake the warmth that came from having her pressed up against him, listening to how her heartbeat matched his own. The tightness in his chest was stretching to his neck, to his arms, to his legs. It was becoming all-consuming.

As he heard the healers approaching, Thranduil took one last glance down at the elleth on the bed. Debating with himself, he finally allowed himself to touch her skin. He held her face in his hands; content with listening to her softly breathe.


End file.
